


Queen of the Streets

by Ludholtzjj



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - The Godfather (1972 1974 1990) Fusion, BAMF Sansa Stark, Death Threats, Drama, Drugs, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Fluff, House Baratheon, House Lannister, House Stark, House Targaryen, House Tyrell, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, King's Landing, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, References to Drugs, Romance, Smoking, Smut, Some Humor, Violence, jonsa, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-23 14:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludholtzjj/pseuds/Ludholtzjj
Summary: Stark, Targaryen, Lannister, Tyrell, & Baratheon; also known as ‘The Five Families’, are the major crime families of King's Landing, each operating in specific territories and owning a seat on the Commission. Locked in a constant power struggle for control of the Westerosi Mafia, the families remain entrapped in a bloody War, the Five Families War. After Targaryen operations move into Stark territory, Rhaegar Targaryen, the Head of the Targaryen family, arranges a meeting with the Red Wolf, Sansa Stark, the Head of the Stark family, in order to quickly sue for peace.*Happy late birthday to my darling internet dad, Brad the Bard! Love you!*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolateghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateghost/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRAD!
> 
> The fic I promised is finally here! I'm surprised you didn't follow up on it after I first told you about it, BUT lmfaooo you probably thought it was like all those times where I talk about a fic but then it never shows up! BUT this time I meant it!
> 
> Lmfaooooo bruh I was supposed to finish this shit on July 5, Brad's ACTUAL birthday but OOF darlings ya homegirl is to inexperienced for this shit! For example, everyone's favorite uneducated virgin is still here! TMI but guys I invented that saying in 2017 when I wrote my one night stand fic, I haven't had sex in the 2 years that have passed LOL! Yea so ANYWAY I had to read up on all that shit again all these years later, tbh I'll never write another smut fic AGAIN!
> 
> IMPORTANT (CONTEXT):
> 
> Alrighty so before we get into the fic, everyone needs to know that basically King's Landing embodies our New York; and so like that's the MAIN and only setting in this fic. Therefore lemme explain, so basically all of Westeros is in King's Landing, and so there's different areas (like how New York has Queens, Brooklyn, Hell's Kitchen, etc.) and THOSE are the 5 main Game of Thrones families separate territories. If you're confused lemme give you an example, SO the Starks own/are in charge of the Northern part of King's Landing, making it the North.
> 
> IN ADDITION, this fic was inspired by the fact that Brad finally got me to watch the entirety of 'The Godfather', so we're borrowing some phrases from the movie.
> 
> Here are some phrases I borrowed and their equivalent in this fic:
> 
> Don (is the leader of a crime family) - Warden/Wardeness
> 
> Godfather (another term used for the leader of a crime family; more frequently used) - Lord/Lady
> 
> Consigliere (is an advisor to the family and sometimes seen as the Boss's "right-hand man") - Consigliere
> 
> ALSO, at the end I'll be giving a more in depth explanation of certain parts of this fic. So without further ado, THANK YOU FOR READING MY GARBAGE!

**Present**

****

**_RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!_ **

The loud sound of incessant machine gun fire rang through the distance, followed closely by the muffled screams of Baelish’s men, as Sansa sat in the back of her black 1941 Lincoln Continental Coupe.

Waiting for her men to clear Baelish’s Spanish-styled mansion was a tedious business she decided while taking a long drag of her cigar and exhaling into the evening air, watching the smoke fade against the dimming sky.

However as the gunshots lessened and the screams died down, Sansa knew she wouldn’t have to wait long before her instructions had been carried out. 

As if on cue, Podrick nodded in understanding to Brienne in the distance before turning back in the driver's seat to address his Wardeness.

“It’s done my Lady, Ser Brienne says we can move in.”

Sansa simply gave Podrick a slight nod of her head to indicate that she’d heard before signaling that he should open the door; he quickly stepped out of the car before scurrying over to her side. Pod carefully handed Sansa out as she stepped out of the vehicle dressed in a stunning white and black dress suit, with an enormously elegant straw hat adorned with a wide taffeta bow. She was beautifully fierce, with her regal bearing and piercing Tully blue eyes. 

“Thank you, Podrick,” she said softly as she began making her way into Baelish’s mansion; normally she would’ve spoken more to Podrick and given him the respect her men deserved, but tonight was a morose evening and she had no such desire for conversation.

Continuing to make her way up the stone path, Sansa’s heels clicked against the stone echoing in the silence as she breached the distance to her destination, the sound of muffled footsteps joining her heels as her men fell in line behind her.

Passing through the archway, Sansa registered that the floor was littered with corpses, not a living person to be seen, her men were nothing if not thorough. The liquid splashed loudly as she walked through a puddle of blood, it coated everything: the bodies, the floor, the walls; it streamed like a flourishing river over the grounds.

The stench of death reached her nostrils, almost making her gag as the tendrils of death tried to enter her body. Killing was an ugly business but no one fucked with Sansa Stark, she had to do what she had to do. 

Finally reaching the entrance to Baelish’s study, Brienne swung open the door for her Wardeness, revealing several of Sansa’s most trusted men: Theon, Sandor, and even her own sister, Arya, guarding Baelish who was gagged and tied to his large wingback chair.

Taking him in, Sansa couldn’t help but notice his crisp white suit almost reminiscent of the disco styled fashions with his open black vest and wild chest hair medallion combo; the longer she stared at his suit the angrier she became, how dare Baelish wear the color of innocence and purity as if he wasn’t anything but the fucking devil’s advocate himself. 

In a rare show of emotion, Sansa flicked her unfinished cigar at him, hitting him square in the face causing ash flutters to land on the white of his suit and mar it with streaks of gray while at the same time burning parts of his skin. 

Much better she thought, harsh eyes staring him down as she focused her gaze upon him, her beautiful blue orbs showing no remorse or sympathy.

“You stand accused of murder. You stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges… Littlefinger?” Sansa calmly asked. 

Littlefinger screeched furiously through his gag, his eyes contorting with a mixture of desperation and pain.

“Oh right, you can't answer, can you?” a devilish smirk crossing her face as she laughed. 

Sansa quickly bent down to reach eye-level with him before taking the gag out of his mouth slowly, as if she were teasing him. 

Raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, she waited for him to respond.

“Lady Sansa, forgive me... I'm a bit confused,” he haltingly gasped out.

“Which charges confuse you? Let's start with the simplest one,  _ you _ murdered countless of  **_MY_ ** men,  **_Stark_ ** men. Ordered their throats slit and watched as they bled out. Do you deny it?”

“I did it to protect you. They were traitors,” Littlefinger lied easily.

“You did it to take power in the Vale, one of the Stark territories,  **_MY_ ** territories. Let us not forget earlier,  _ you _ conspired to murder  **_MY_ ** father, Ned Stark. You tipped off the Lannister's to assassinate him, which they almost accomplished. Do you deny it?”

“Whatever your family might have told you, they were always weaker than you. They imagined enemies everywhere.”

“You had Aunt Lysa send a letter to my parents telling them it was the Lannister's who had murdered our men when really it was  _ you _ . The conflict between the Starks and the Lannister's, it was  _ you _ who started it. Do you deny it?”

“I know of no such letter.”

“ _ You _ conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray  **_MY_ ** father, Ned Stark;  **_AND_ ** not only that, you didn’t just stop at the Lannister's,  _ OH NO _ ,  _ you _ conspired with all the ‘Five Families’! Thanks to your treachery, all of King's Landing is trapped in a never ending blood bath for control of the city. Do you deny it?”

“I deny it! None of you were there to see what happened. None of you knows the truth.”

“You deny it do you? But that’s just another one of your lies. You deny it because you didn’t think you’d get caught! Do you really think I wouldn’t be able to put two and two together and discover that you were the treacherous Littlefinger?!” Sansa growled lowly. 

“If we could speak alone, I can explain everything,” Baelish rushed out in desperation.

“Sometimes when I'm trying to understand a person's motives, I play a little game. I assume the worst. What's the worst reason you have for turning the ‘Five Families’ against one another?” Sansa stated as she held out her hand and accepted the Smith and Wesson Model 19 pistol Arya placed in her open palm. 

“Sansa, I beg you! I loved your mother since the time I was a boy.”

“And yet, you betrayed her.”

Baelish was crying now, his back was pressed up against his chair, the only thing that was holding his weight up, “I loved you. More than anyone.”

“And yet, you betrayed me,” she remarked coldly as she twirled the gun around in her hand. 

“When you brought me back to King’s Landing, you told me there's no justice in the world, not unless we make it. Honor demands that I defend my family from those who would harm us. That I defend the North from those who would betray us. Thank you for all your many lessons, Lord Baelish. I will never forget them.”

“Sansa-!”, Baelish gasped out as Sansa pointed the gun at his head. 

“No need to seize the last word Lord Baelish, I’ll assume it was something clever.”

**_BANG!_ **

Sansa refused to flinch as Littlefinger’s blood and brain matter splattered all over her from the close range shot she’d just fired. Instead she slowly lowered the smoking gun before handing it off to Sandor and straightening her lapels, “Make a dinner reservation for 42, be sure to pay them extra for the mess.”

Nodding her head in dismissal, everyone filed out of the room, except for Sandor who stood closest to her. 

“What a waste of a good cigar. An Asshai’i, said to be from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai,” Sansa shook her head in dismay while staring forlornly at the abandoned cigar resting at Littlefinger’s feet. 

The Hound snorted out a laugh, “As if you don’t have a whole stash of the fuckers, Littlebird.”

Sansa shook her head in fond amusement, “Take me home now.” 

* * *

“Brienne, can you check in with our informant? I want to make sure we eliminated all of Littlefinger’s men and associates,” Sansa asked her Consigliere as she made her way up the path to her own manor, Winterfell. 

Brienne nodded, “I will check in with him first thing in the morning, my Lady.”

Having caught onto the timing response, Sansa raised an eyebrow in Brienne’s direction, “Plans with Ser Jaime tonight?”

Brienne’s face was stoic as ever, but Sansa thought she saw her fight down a smile at the mention of Jaime, another trusted member of the Stark family despite previously having been associated with the Lannister family.

“I can reschedule if you still need me tonight,” Brienne’s tone was serious, but Sansa could tell there was a small part of Brienne internally begging her not to keep her here a moment longer.

“Theon can handle it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Brienne,” smiling the Consigliere gave Sansa a brief nod before walking off in search of Jaime. 

Now making her way through the manor alone, Sansa smiled and nodded at many of the men she recognized manning the grounds. 

However as she neared the privacy of the family wing, the smile instantly fell from her lips.

Sansa had heard many people, including her own men, complain about the blood that stained their hands. She'd heard all of the Stark men at least say it once… everyone but her. 

Maybe they thought Sansa just didn't care. But truth be told, it killed her. 

Not long ago she ran an operation and killed 20 people. She didn't kill them herself, but after that operation she had so much blood on her hands. She hated it.

Even now, her men congratulated her for killing Littlefinger, but the man’s sticky blood was still there. Drying on her skin. She just smiled and thanked them quietly, because as the Wardeness and Head of the family she knew what she had to do. She couldn’t afford to be soft or make mistakes like her father and Robb, but despite that… inside it was killing her. That man may have been evil and he may have betrayed them, but he was still a human life. 

Lost in her thoughts, eventually Sansa made it to her suite. She felt a bit relieved to be there.

“Took you long enough,” Jon muttered out into the darkness before turning on the bedside lamp.

Sansa glanced up in surprise not expecting him to still be up, however her surprise didn’t last long before a huge grin broke out across her face and she rushed over to him.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me, sweetling,” Sansa replied reaching out to caress his face. 

However before she could touch him, she finally remembered them.

Glancing down, she noticed the blood on her hands. The way the blood was caked and stained into her hands, dry because of how long it had taken the men to get back to Winterfell.

She stared at her hands blankly still held in mid-air, with her head bent slightly over them as if questioning how they came to be that way.

“You okay Sans?” Jon asked full of concern.

“Fine.”

She really didn't feel like speaking. She just wanted to say, ‘Oh god. Can't you see my hands?’ Of course, she didn't say that. She would just sound plain stupid. 

Everything was silent; she was drowning in the roaring silence as she just continued to glare down at her hands.

"Sansa. Hey, look at me," Jon said in that soft tone he seemed to use just for her.

Jon had turned and sat her on their bed and then knelt down in front of her. He carefully cupped her face with his hands, and looked her straight in the eye.

She may have been wearing her armor but the Red Wolf wasn't there, this was just Sansa. The vulnerable broken person that lied beneath the facade. The one with scars, not on her wrists, stomach, thighs, or veins. But on her heart and mind.

"It’s going to be okay,” Sansa nodded slightly as acknowledgement of Jon's words but made no other movements.

"Let's get you cleaned up okay?" he slowly moved his hands to her elbows to guide her up, steering her towards the bathroom.

Leading her to the sink to wash away the stains, he turned the water on and made sure it was a warm enough temperature and then gently pulled her shaking hands under the stream.

While Jon washed her hands, she noticed the blood on her face too. Mostly dried. She decided to shower, it would be better, after all. 

"I've got it from here Jon. I'm okay," he sighed in frustration but let her be.

Stripping off her bloodied clothes and jumping into the shower, the water instantly turned a nasty rust color and swirled down the drain. Sansa nabbed a bit of soap and slowly worked it into her soft skin.

Several minutes later, shutting off the shower she finished getting dressed in the silk chemise Jon had laid out for her, soft and smooth, but not too uncomfortably cool against her skin. 

He waited until she was finished to comment.

"You're not fine Sansa."

"Yes, I am. I know my responsibilities. I’ll be fine."

"Then what’s wrong?”

“What have I told you? I don’t want to drag you into this.  _ Don’t _ ask me about my business, Jon,” Sansa whispered. 

“What’s going on, Sans?"

“ _ Don’t _ . Ask. Me. About. My. Business,” Sansa warned.

“If you’re really fine then why can’t you just tell me what happened?”

"ENOUGH!" Sansa shouted.

Jon paused at her outburst, trying but failing to disguise his flinch.

Seeing his slight movement, Sansa’s eyes widened in horror before she turned away in shame and disgust. 

Several minutes passed before Jon broke the silence.

"I understand you hold the lives of those closest to us in your hands. I understand more than most people. And I know you want to keep me out of it to protect me, but can’t you respect me enough to let me make my own decision? I know there’ll be risks but I want to face them with you. It’s wrong that you should carry all this weight on your own," he replied softly.

“I’m a monster, Jon. I can feel blood everywhere. Sticking to my face, turning a disgusting shade of red. I try rubbing at it, but nothing. I have so much blood on my hands, I don’t want that for you,” she whispered back just as softly. 

And before Jon could so much as protest, she continued, "This family is all I have Jon. You and all the others are my family, my duty. This is my life Jon. This is everything. I can't stand the thought of that being ripped away from me, from any of us."

The silence felt overwhelming as Sansa looked down at her hands, unconsciously tangling and detangling them.

Slowly stepping towards her, Jon wrapped his warm calloused hands over hers.

"Do you remember when I told you that you weren't going to lose me?" he waits for her nod of confirmation before continuing. 

"Well, you aren't going to lose any of us. We take care of our own, Sansa. You’ll take care of us. And we’ll take care of you. Always.”

"I know you will," she said softly.

Gazing tenderly at one another, Jon moved his head in closer to Sansa’s. They both leaned in so their noses bumped, before sliding against each other so his forehead rested against hers. 

Their breathing shallowed as their lips got closer and closer. Jon's eyelids drooped as he left their lips just millimeters apart. He could feel Sansa’s warm breath fanning across his lips.

Gently, Jon leaned in and kissed her soft lips; they pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths. 

He suddenly felt a terrible tender ache in his chest as the kiss resumed. He loved her desperately. Often despite himself. It suddenly felt too much to bear, wrapped together in their bed, in their home.

She was so strong and sure, she would be mortified to hear it from his lips everything fragile and delicate he felt for her. Perhaps he was still in the honeymoon phase, overcome and caught up with everything romantic and exciting. 

Still he moved over her, face now hovering above hers. He mapped with his eyes the shape of her face, and with a thumb he traced the bottom swell of her softly parted lips and the strong line of her jaw. His hand moved to push into her hair and he pulled her mouth up to his once more. He felt the words in his throat, sweetening his tongue. He pushed them into her mouth in whispers and sighs. All that he felt for her, every tender thing.

His lips were velvet against hers, his skin warm like a fire in winter. She wanted to wrap herself in him like a blanket to shield out the world. His hands cupped her face and hers cradled his neck. This was love.

One of his hands crept behind her head to let down her hair. It cascaded down her back as they broke for a quick breath, and suddenly their gentle kisses turned passionate. He hungrily tasted her, his tongue teasing hers, his lips playfully devouring hers.

Again he broke their kiss, trailing his lips across her cheek, down her jaw, to her neck. Ever so gently, his tongue brushed across her skin as he kissed her, and she gasped, a chill running through her. Her hands fell to his chest as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

He moved down to gently kiss her collarbone, and she could barely catch her breath. Her eyes were closed in contentment. She burned with desire and love for him.

With careful control, he let his weight rest on her. There was such hungry tenderness to his kisses and embrace. His hair fell forward, barely brushing her face as he kissed her.

Suddenly, one of his hands gently began to stroke her breast and a fluttering, desperate feeling rose up inside her. She sighed breathily around his mouth.

Every thought in her brain had turned to him, and her senses could barely process the sensations. She wanted to smell him, taste him, feel him, know him. Every aspect of him was open to her and she wanted to drink it in. The physical sensation was already becoming too much for her to process.

His mouth moved again to her neck, and his tongue lightly swirled in the hollow of her clavicle. The slightest hint of a moan escaped her throat before she even knew it had started. It was then that she became aware of a new sensation, Jon’s erection pressed against her thigh.

It was so arousing to feel him react that way to her. There was a sort of power to it, to draw this out of him. He was so careful to be so formal, so put together. To know that he truly was undone by her was heady, and she felt her insides liquefy.

"I love how just the sight of you makes me hard," Jon whispered in her delicate ears.

He pulled her up, his face still buried in her neck. Seconds later, the front of her silk chemise was pulled down to her waist and her breasts were bare before him. 

He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes dark. His hands cupped her breasts, and her heart quickened again. She thought it might beat out of her chest.

"I feel we’re a bit unequal," she managed, her voice trembling.

"That I can resolve," he smiled. 

Jon tore his shirt off over his head. He was trim and well-muscled, a fact she had appreciated over and over again during their relationship.

They kissed again as her hands roamed his newly exposed skin. He toyed with her breasts gently, his thumbs brushing against her nipples until they too stood at attention. This spurred her deeper and deeper into arousal, until all thoughts of ladylike decorum faded.

And that's when she reached out to touch him.

He pulled away from her, startled, and his first reaction was to look down at her hand on him. Her hand traced his cock, caressed it, felt the shape of it, well aware that his muscles were stiffening in reaction to the sensation.

"Sansa," he said, as if beginning a warning or admonishing statement, as if he were worried that she was doing this out of some misplaced duty to please him or as if he were worried he’d cum early if she continued.

"Shh," was her only response, and his protests ceased instantly. After a few more seconds, the next sound from him was a groan.

She tugged on his boxer briefs, deftly tugging them down with one hand. Once again, he started to speak and she stopped him. His erection was suddenly free of its prison.

"We’re unequal again," she murmured, and sat up to shed her chemise. 

Suddenly, they were exposed to each other. His eyes were hungrily roaming her form, and the moment was filled with an intensity so great she wasn’t sure if she could take it. 

"Fuck Sansa," he said looking at her hard nipples and down at her bare pussy.

Slowly, not taking his eyes off her, he knelt over her. His hands cradled her calves for a moment before creeping up to her thighs and then finally coming to rest on her hips. He moved closer to her, until his face was mere inches from her sex, and inhaled deeply, shuddering.

He sat up again and there they lay, naked before one another.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world," he said.

Her eyes scanned him, eager to appreciate every inch of his body. He was hers, and she wanted to memorize every curve of his body. "I love you," she answered, her mind unable to form another coherent thought.

"And I you," he said before lowering her back down onto the bed.

He knelt between her legs as she lay on her back. His hands massaged her breasts. He dipped to kiss one and gently sucked the nipple into his mouth. A moan escaped her at that, and she whimpered when he responded by swirling his tongue around it.

She was growing desperate. She wrapped her arms up under his and grasped his shoulders. Her hands grabbed tighter than she intended, and she felt her nails dig slightly into his skin. He groaned, and one of his hands was suddenly resting on her inner thigh, tantalizingly close to the fire that she needed extinguished.

"Please," she whimpered.

His hand slipped upward, and this time, her moan was loud.

Two fingers were deep inside her, making her body arch off the bed. He inserted his fingers in and out fast and deep in order to make her even wetter. Another long finger followed and she almost couldn’t take it anymore. His hand moved sneakily from her hips to pinch her bundle of nerves.

" _ Jon _ ," she gasped. She could hardly catch her breath. She was squirming beneath him. She couldn't lie still.

"Mmm?" he answered, not moving his mouth from her breast, not stopping his fingers. The vibration of his voice on her skin sent goosebumps prickling down her body.

She couldn't answer, couldn't think of any words. The only thing in her mind was him.

" **_Jon_ ** ," she gasped again, but the pitch was higher this time.

He lifted his mouth, looked at her face, and then kissed her quickly on the cheek. His hand moved quicker, changed its pattern, and he kept staring into her eyes. Her heart was pounding now, she could hear it in her ears. She was losing control of her muscles. Her hands kept clenching the sheets and relaxing. She had to remind herself to breathe.

" **_Oh_ ** _ ,  _ **_Jon_ ** !" this time, a deep moan as she cried his name in pleasure. 

Almost beyond her control, her head pressed backwards, her back arched towards him, her hips bucked into his hand. Waves of pleasure washed over her, and a slow wash of warmth trickled through her limbs into her fingers and toes. Her mind was full of nothing but sensation, and it soothed her frustration.

Almost as suddenly as it began, it was over. She was panting, and his hand was on her hip now. Her arms, her legs felt like jelly. The burning was not gone but it suddenly felt very different. She felt sated.

Jon smiled at her. 

God, she was everything. She was beautiful, and sensual, and so much more than he had ever hoped or dreamed.

He kissed her again and again. He kissed her until he felt lightheaded from lack of air, until he couldn't stand his arousal anymore.

His muscles trembled slightly in anticipation. 

He slipped his hand back between her legs making her groan as he pumped his finger in and out of her as deep as it would go before sliding a second in and then a third.

Sansa moaned loudly, writhing and panting, unable to speak, she simply moaned more and more at the feeling of his fingers deep within her, her walls contracted around his fingers, and squeezing them hard. It was a singular sensation to be allowed this intimacy with her. She was warm and wet. 

She almost purred with pleasure as his hand resumed its ministrations from before.

" _ That feels so good _ ," she whined loudly.

She arched her back and pushed against him, her chest was rising rapidly and she was on the edge of losing her mind.

" _ Please _ …  _ Jon I need you _ ...  _ now _ !” she moaned into his lips while grinding her hips against his hand.

He groaned when she started stroking him while kissing and nipping his neck. 

She kept stroking him slowly while rubbing the tip of his cock with her thumb. He gripped her hips and leaned into her, nipping her bottom lip and then kissing her hungrily.

Sansa spread her legs open and without a beat he positioned his huge throbbing erection at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly, and she gasped. He couldn't keep back a moan, and he was clenching his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. It took him a moment to be sure he was back under control, but he couldn't stop from trembling.

He withdrew slowly, his breathing ragged. Again, he pushed into her. This time, she moaned with him.

Gently, tenderly, he began to establish a rhythm. It was all he could do to control himself. Every move he made elicited a sound from her. He wasn't sure if he could hold his own weight anymore. He was making the most undignified sounds, but he couldn't help it. He had become absolutely undone by her, and it would not be long before he surrendered to that feeling.

He knew his thrusts were becoming faster, harder than he had intended, but he was feeling no resistance from her, was seeing no evidence of pain in her eyes. In fact, if he were to conclude from her body language what she was feeling, he would assume pleasure.

"So tight Sansa," he said as he pounded into her as hard as he could.

She threw her head back in pleasure opening her legs wider if that was possible so he could hit her spot even more, "Mmm, yes, Jon. I want you to fuck me hard."

He smacked her ass hard suddenly to make her jump and moan, "Mmm… what do you want me to do to you, sweetling?"

"F-Fuck me Jon! Please!" Sansa’s voice trembled with want.

"Yes, sweetling. Let me hear you," his voice was dark.

Jon was pounding into Sansa hard and rough as she held the headboard moaning his name. He moved in and out of her, gripping her hips feeling her walls tighten around him. She tried meeting his thrusts but it was hard to do with the pleasure she was getting from him. 

Angry bruises were beginning to form on the flawless skin of her hips as he happily claimed her as his, and only his. She gasped and moaned louder in approval.

The only sounds to be heard in the master suite, were the sounds of slapping skin, Sansa having started thrusting her hips into his harder and harder. She continued to roll her hips against him as he fucked her with all the strength that he had. 

She was being loud but couldn't be bothered to care, despite the lingering knowledge at the back of her mind that the guards posted outside their door were hearing a hell of a show. She was gasping and calling out his name. Breathing hard, basking in the glory of the pleasure that they were giving one another.

"Oh by the Gods!" she moaned, her hair falling in her eyes, however not truly caring. The only thing she really cared about was what Jon was doing to her.

"You like that sweetling?" he asked, his cock buried deeply in her pussy. Her juices drenching his cock and balls.

"Gods yes," she confirmed, her body perfectly arched, her ass pressed as tightly against his groin as it would go, the perfect fit that they were.

"Tell me you’re mine," he husked leaning over, his hips never losing a beat. He slapped her beautiful bare ass for emphasis.

"I'm yours," she moaned, "You’re mine, as I am yours.  _ Oh Gods _ !" she cried out, the stars beginning to form behind her eyelids.

"Jon…fuck Jon…Fuck...Fuck… **_JON_ ** !"

Sansa could feel his cock deep inside her, it was so thick and long, hard and wet, it was perfect. The view of his cock, disappearing completely into her wetness made him mad and his patience slipped. She screamed and he knew she was climaxing again, her internal muscles clenching his cock and milking it harder and harder as she came once more, her legs tightly locked around his hot, sweating body. He could feel it around him. It was too much. 

He continued thrusting into her, hitting her womb every time with his long, thick shaft, as he thrust for the last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible, making her feel him as he spilled his seed deep within her womb.

His pleasure had taken him, hard. He too had cried out as his legs trembled and his heart stuttered as he felt the sweet release of orgasm. He wasn't even sure anymore what his body was doing, but since he had no control over it, it didn't matter.

He didn't want this moment to end, didn't want this pleasure to fade. He wanted to be here, with her, body and soul together, forever.

But of course it did. The pleasure left him feeling weak, like his limbs were made of gelatin. She was so soft and warm beneath him. His heart was still galloping. 

When he had his strength back he rolled off of her and laid next to her facing the ceiling trying to catch his breath. He turned to look at her and smiled.

Tracing her jaw with his hand, he looked at her adoringly, "I love you more than anything."

She had a small smile on her lips and her chest was heaving a little as she came back down from her high, "And I you." 

He moved the sheets to cover them, not being able to keep his gaze away from her naked sweaty body and pulled her into his arms. She squeezed his hand and snuggled even closer to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT (IN DEPTH EXPLANATION):
> 
> Alrighty so first off we'll start with the time period, basically there is no time period; I didn't really specify that shit but I did add older items like the1941 Lincoln Continental Coupe, Smith and Wesson Model 19 pistol, etc. that was just because I was trying to keep the mob vibe and also I thought those items were cute lol
> 
> Next is Baelish’s Spanish-styled mansion, okay so if you didn't know, I like to add certain elements from canon into my fics. WELL this is not that, I mean I could pass off the Spanish style as a representation of his brothel but really it was just me using the mansion from 'Scarface' bc that's my fav mob movie.
> 
> Podrick IS in fact Sansa's chauffer.
> 
> Next are the cigars, I just thought they were badass and Tony Montana from 'Scarface' smokes them LOL
> 
> Sansa's outfit from where she stepped out of the car is the outfit from 'Titanic' Rose wore when she stepped out her car.
> 
> Littlefinger's outfit is John Travolta's from 'Saturday Night Fever'
> 
> The Sansa/Littlefinger confrontation was me implementing Baelish's canon trial into this fic. And when Sansa talks about him murdering Stark men that goes along with Baelish betraying Ned in the Throne room and holding a knife to his throat. NED AND ALL THE STARKS ARE ALIVE, NO YOU DID NOT READ THAT WRONG. Ned almost getting killed by the Lannister's is reminiscent of the Godfather almost being killed. The never ending blood bath for control of the city IS the Game of Thrones, fighting for the Iron Throne. 
> 
> ALSO, after a certain point Sansa only really refers to Baelish as Littlefinger, that's bc unlike canon it's supposed to be like 2 separate people and no one knows they're both Baelish until of course Sansa finds out.
> 
> The dinner reservation is a reference from 'John Wick', it is not in fact a literal dinner reservation rather it's an order for a clean up crew to come for the bodies. ALSO, there were only 42 men because Baelish wasn't expecting an attack BUT you need a good number of men to cover a mansion. 
> 
> Imma be honest with y'all, I PERSONALLY prefer Briemund BUT Braime was canon, HOWEVER I don't explicitly say what Brienne's plans with Jaime are SO for all we know they could just be meeting as friends... but that's for everyone's personal preference.
> 
> JON SNOW IS INNOCENT IN THE MAFIA BUSINESS, HE HAS NEVER IN HIS LIFE BEEN INVOLVED WITH ANY KIND OF MAFIA BUSINESS.
> 
> Almost forgot, the whole "Don't ask about my business" part is also from 'The Godfather'
> 
> IMPORTANT (CHAPTER 2):
> 
> Chapter 2 will be out tomorrow so not a long wait ladies and gentlemen! You all have a nice day/night my loves!  
> \- Jenn out
> 
> Shameless plug, follow me on Tumblr @Ludholtzjj


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty Chapter 2, woohoo!
> 
> Imma be COMPLETELY upfront with everybody, Chapter 1 was honestly better; But I've been staring at this fic for 24 days and just wanted to get this shit off my hands, so like if it's a STEAMING pile of garbage then like sorry LOL
> 
> WARNING:
> 
> Sansa and Jon are my babies so they get nothing but respect (unless canon Jon upsets me... which he has on several occasions) BUT everyone else is fair game! SO imma be real with y'all, I'm mad at how a lot of characters treated my homegirl Sansa so I TORE into some hoes in this chapter, so be warned some GOT favs are about to get TRASHED. 
> 
> Other than that, enjoy my garbage!

Sansa smiled into his skin, shifting so she could see his face. She allowed her eyes to rove over every contour, staring at him in a way she had never been able to bring herself to do in public.

His arms tightened around her, aware that she was staring even with his eyes closed, his head dipping so that his nose rested on her forehead.

She lifted her head, and then leaned forward, rubbing her nose fondly against his throat.

The corners of Jon’s mouth tugged up into a dopey smile. She grinned, reaching up a hand to trace the curve of his lips with her fingertips, the angle of his nose, the crease of his forehead, the sharpness of his jaw. Such a beautiful man. So much strength, so much goodness, so much heart.

And he'd given it all to her to treasure.

She still felt unworthy of such a gift, but she knew better now than to reject it on those grounds. He was too precious for that.

“How’d I ever manage to get you to marry me?” Sansa smiled, looking adoringly at him; gently lacing the fingers of her spare hand with his.

“Not sure you gave me much of a choice,” Jon mumbled back with a small smile whilst snaking his arms around her waist and drawing her closer to rest against his chest once more.

Laughing at his actions, Sansa slipped her fingers into his luscious hair and ran them through it. Clearly pleased with her attentions, he let out a content sigh and held her a bit tighter than before.

“I love you,” she said as she nestled her head against his chest.

“I love you too,” Jon mumbled against Sansa’s skin before pressing a sleepy kiss into her hair.

She snuggled a little closer to him, and let the silence envelope them once more. 

However, after a while, Sansa couldn’t help but let sentiment get the better of her. 

"Jon," she said softly, as she fiddled with his wedding band.

"Mmmmm," he responded, unwilling to disturb his own peaceful position to look at her. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” Sansa asked, intertwining her fingers with his. 

Jon rested his head on top of hers. “Of course, how could I forget?” he said just as softly as he wrapped his arms around her torso.

Sansa bit her lip, tentatively reaching out to trace the scars that trans versed his body. She could feel him stiffen under her touch, he wasn’t ashamed of them, rather Jon was more disgusted with the scars that littered his body, he felt they marred his skin and his very soul.

Sansa however couldn’t help but find them beautiful, they were a part of him, part of the man she loved more than anything. To her they were simply a sign that he’d had a rough life, that he was stronger than what had caused him this pain. And she knew he didn’t like bringing attention to them, but she couldn’t help her need to protect him, reassure him that he was beautiful despite it all; that she loved him just as he was, scars and all. They had never bothered her, she found them such a natural part of life that half the time she hardly noticed they were there, the scars were simply a fixed feature within her life. 

So there they lay, Sansa lightly mapping his body with her fingertips until Jon pulled his chin in to look at her, kissing her temple and laying his cheek on her head. 

His hand slid its way under the sheets and brushed soft circles on the exposed skin of her hip and his left arm curled underneath her. Her breasts were flush up against his ribs and radiated an astonishing warmth.

He was silent for a bit before saying, “You saved me.” 

A bit surprised, Sansa asked, “And how is that?” 

Sighing, he simply responded, “She would’ve killed me eventually if it weren’t for you… my own father wouldn’t have noticed.”

* * *

**Past**

****

The casket Jeyne Poole rested inside was closed shut. Her body was too disfigured to allow for an open casket. For the past ten minutes, her father, Vayon leaned against the hard brass coffin and loudly wept.

Sansa’s father, Ned, walked forward to comfort Vayon, over his daughter's death. He turned to Ned and cried into his embrace.

Robb, Catelyn, Theon, and Sandor took a stand beside Sansa in front of Jeyne’s casket. However, at Sansa’s nod, Theon stepped forward and extracted Vayon from Ned’s embrace and led him towards his remaining daughters, and helped him take a seat. 

Soon afterwards, Ned fell in line with the others, standing next to his wife and their children. As he glanced at his daughter uncertainly, he couldn't imagine the thoughts running through her head. Jeyne had been best friends with his eldest daughter during their early childhood, in spite of this since the announcement of her death, Sansa’s face hadn’t shifted from the icy expression she now commonly wore. 

Long gone was the young girl who had loved songs and stories of knights and beautiful ladies, he thought mournfully.

The five of them stood silently for several moments, until Ned noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Mourners trickled out of the church as Stark men ushered them out, until the church remained empty except for the five of them and several guards manning the walls. 

“Open it,” Sansa’s voice broke through the silence.

“Sansa, t-there’s no need,” Cat tried to reason with her.

Sansa ignored her mother and stonily held her resolve, “Open. It.”

Without hesitation, Sandor strode forward and lifted the lid, exposing Jeyne’s body to their eyes.

Catelyn gasped in shock while Ned and Robb inhaled sharply, yet Sansa and Sandor didn’t make a sound. 

In fact, Sansa’s steps echoed throughout the church as she made her way directly to Jeyne’s side. 

With careful fingers, Sansa traced the grotesque cracked and rotted skin of her former friend. 

“Drugs,” she said decisively. 

And after a moment's pause, she spoke once more. “Look how they massacred my girl.”

“I told you the Stark family shouldn’t have dealt in drugs,” Robb burst out. 

Abruptly Sansa’s hand stopped its movements, and her head jerked up as she stared off into the distance.

“Drugs are a thing of the new age, the Starks have fought there way to the top with blood, I’ll not allow us to fall into the past because two former Wardens were to  **_weak_ ** , to  **_incompetent_ ** to keep us on top,” she bitingly responded causing both Ned and Robb to bow their heads in shame.

“Besides, the Starks may deal in narcotics however unlike the other families we actually care about our people. It’s not personal, it’s strictly business; we keep the hard stuff out of our territories. No, this was the work of Dragon Fire, Targaryen product. The stuff literally burns you up from the inside, and somehow Rhaegar  _ fucking _ Targaryen thought we wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t take note of the countless bodies littering  _ our _ streets,  **_my_ ** streets because Targaryen operations had moved into  **_MY_ ** territory.” 

Sansa shook her head in disbelief and let out a merciless chuckle, “They wanted a war,  _ well _ after the funeral they’ll have one.” 

“Sansa-,” Ned tried to interject however his daughter silenced him with a wave of her hand.

“I’ll not listen to  **_any_ ** of you further. You’re dismissed, now get out of my sight.”

Ned, Cat, and Robb began to protest, yet stilled when Sansa nodded her head and the guards all took a step towards them.

“Sansa we’re your family! Y-you can’t do this to us,” Catelyn cried out.

Sansa turned and met their gaze head on, unfaltering, “Watch me. Now if you know what’s good for you, as your Wardeness, you’ll do what I say when I say it.” 

Slowly the three of them turned and meekly made their way towards the exit, however before they could make it to far Sansa called back to them, “Not you Robb.”

Together the three of them stopped all of a sudden, and sharing a concerned glance with his parents, Robb turned back and slowly made his way back over to Sansa.

When he was just an inch away from her he stopped, only for her to close the distance and cup his face within her hands.

Caressing his face she spoke softly, “You know, you were always my favorite sibling. Not because we were closest in age, but because you understood me like no one else could.”

“But as it later turned out, I was wrong. Despite what I tried to tell myself, I’d always been the outsider in the family. Although I was the best behaved, I was never enough, never what this family needed or wanted. And when the time came for the pack to step up and protect their own, they failed me,  **_you_ ** failed me. Perhaps it’s because I was never truly part of the pack. But now that’s all changed. I’m the Wardeness of the North, the Red Wolf, and I won’t have you undermining me or questioning my decisions in front of others again. You’re lucky I’m even letting this wedding take place tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

Robb trembled under her hands as he nodded in confirmation.

“Good. Now go escort mother and father out of the church,” she spoke softly as she patted his cheek and let him go. 

* * *

Before the wedding even started, Sansa positioned guards all in and around the church. Every member of her mafia was put to use on the day of her brother's nuptials.

Knowing the other mob families of King’s Landing as intimately as she did, they could strike at any given moment, and Sansa wasn’t about to allow it. 

Thankfully however, the ceremony proceeded without a hitch, and before she knew it, her brother and the Tyrell girl were being announced as Mr. and Mrs. Stark, and the wedding party was moving to Winterfell for the reception. 

Sansa stood at the Gate, flanked on either side by Brienne and Jaime, all dressed in the formal attire of the wedding party. She warmly shook and squeezed the hands of friends and guests, pinched the cheeks of the children, and made them all feel welcome. They in turn carried with them gallons of homemade wine, cartons of freshly baked bread and pastries, and enormous trays of Westerosi delicacies.

There were at least eight hundred guests filling the main courtyard and gardens, with music, laughter, and dancing.

However despite Robb’s best efforts, Sansa and her men refused to mingle with the Tyrell’s. They might now have been united through marriage but Sansa wasn’t stupid enough to trust the enemy, especially when that enemy was Olenna Tyrell, the Head of the Tyrell family, and the grandmother of the girl who had just wormed her way into the Stark family.

No, Sansa knew better than to underestimate  _ any _ of the mafia families of King’s Landing, family or not. 

So when the bride walked up to her, Sansa was understandably less than pleased.

“You look radiant, my Lady.”

Sansa had to visibly restrain herself from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous attempt to enter her confidences, “Radiant? Why radiant?” 

“It's the word that came to mind. We're sisters now. I want us to be friends, good friends,” Margaery simpered sweetly as she took Sansa’s arm and led her around the reception. 

“Hmmm. And I assume as sisters we should share secrets now? Tell me, aren't the Tyrell’s the second wealthiest family in King’s Landing now? Of course, ambitious climbers don't want to stop on the second highest rung. If only you could take that final step, you'd see further than all the rest. You'd be alone with nothing but blue sky above you.”

Abruptly Sansa stopped their progress and coldly extracted her arm from Margaery's hold, “If you ever call me sister again, I'll have you strangled in your sleep.” 

At that Margaery’s smile visibly fell and her discomfort grew when Sansa leaned over to whisper further, “My brother loves you, you know that. Men do stupid things for women, they’re easily manipulated; you may have my brother fooled, but if you want to stay ahead of me, you need to keep  _ both _ eyes open.”

When Sansa pulled back, they sized each other up for a moment, before Margaery gave her a slight incline of her head and ran off to find Robb, most certainly to tell him what had passed between them. 

Rolling her eyes, Sansa pulled out a cigar, flipped open her torch lighter, moving the flame to the tip of her cigar, and drawing a breath to light it.

Inhaling, she let the arid relief flow over her before expelling the smoke slowly through chapped lips. Another inhalation and she could feel her muscles relaxing further. 

Nevertheless, soon footsteps interrupted her relaxation, without turning around Sansa knew exactly who was upon her. Sighing in frustration, Sansa threw her unfinished cigar on the walkway, it seemed she could never get through one; although she could store it, they never truly tasted the same after they were first lit. 

"Care to explain what the fuck this is I hear about you disrespecting my wife?" it wasn't truly a question, it was an order, delivered with a biting undertone of frost in spite of the heated content.

"Well Robb…," Sansa drawled, the childhood abuse and all the nightmares that came with it had left her sarcastic and cold, almost beyond recognition of the happy girl she once was.

"I'd  _ love _ to tell you why, and yet," she paused for dramatic effect, "I’m sure you already know." 

"Look, if you gave it an effort I’m sure Margaery would feel welcome, maybe some-," Sansa couldn't bother to listen anymore to this crap.

"Would you shut the fuck up and tell me what you want," she demanded raising an eyebrow.

"That is enough, just don't talk to Marga-," Robb began to bellow.

"I won't speak to her like that when she remembers to stay in her place! Trying to manipulate me isn't a good way to stay in my good graces."

"Sansa if you would try to be more understanding-"

"I'll be more understanding when she isn't such a power hungry bitch. You’re treading in dangerous waters Robb, the only reason you breathe the same air as I do is because I say so. So keep out of my business, it’s none of your concern. Keep this up and I’ll kill her and I won't care that she’s my brother's wife. It would be worth it. Eventually you would thank me once you met a proper lady worthy of your time." 

Robb stood there wide eyed in disbelief.

“And one more thing Robb… you’re my older brother and I love you, but don’t ever take sides with  _ anyone _ against the family again.  **_Ever_ ** .”

And before Robb could respond, a new voice entered the conversation and both Sansa and him turned to see who had interrupted them. 

Brienne stood before them, her suit perfectly pressed, “My Lady, he would like to see you.”

Sansa didn’t need to ask who he was, a quick glance at the gate told her that the Targaryen’s had arrived.

“I want you, Theon, Sandor, and Jaime by my side. Tell Lord Targaryen to wait for me in the hall outside my study,” she instructed her. “This shouldn’t take much longer,” Brienne nodded and took off towards the gate. 

Turning back to face her brother, she could see the tension in his jaw, “What did we say! No business at my wedding!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand ,” she said without feeling. 

Before she could walk off, Robb grabbed her by the wrist, “What will you do?”

“I'll make him an offer he can't refuse.” 

* * *

Of all her homes in King’s Landing, Sansa’s favorite had to be Winterfell. It was hers when she had proven she could live up to the Stark family name, and now she spent most of her time within the walls of Winterfell in her study. This was where she did most of her business. 

It was far out of reach of lawyers, customs, and the FBI; they’d been trying to get her family for years, but the Starks were good at covering their tracks and keeping their hands clean.

Therefore, Sansa was sat at the desk in her study, when Lord Targaryen entered her office. She scanned each and every one of the faces that entered her study discreetly from the corner of her eye. In total four members of the Targaryen mafia crossed her threshold: Lord Targaryen, the woman she assumed to be his sister, Jorah Mormont, and Arthur Dayne. 

Sansa refused to give a visual reaction to the Sword of the Morning’s presence, she refused to be intimidated in her own territory… much less her own home. No, the Sword of the Morning wouldn’t trouble her, especially when she knew he could be handled. 

Instead, Sansa looked to Lord Targaryen for a second before nodding to Sandor, who roughly closed the door causing several of the rooms foreign occupants to jump in surprise. Other than that, she didn't acknowledge Targaryen’s presence for several moments, unnerving him.

If she was trying to tell him he was insignificant to her business and she could ruin him and his family, he had gotten the message long ago. 

The blinds were closed, and so the room was dark, creating a tense atmosphere. Brienne sat near a small table, examining some paperwork, while an impatient Jaime stood with Theon by the window nearest Sansa, sipping from a glass of wine. 

After several tense moments of silence, Sansa turned to the stiffly formal Lord Targaryen, and offered her hand in invitation to which he moved forward to kiss; then taking the offered seat across from her after her nod. 

Rhaegar Targaryen looked just as exotic as everyone had told her he would be, he had silver-gold hair and dark indigo eyes. His suit was impeccable and obviously custom made by the way it hung off his frame. 

Sansa could tell his rumored intelligence wasn’t just that, by the way his indigo eyes scanned the room before finally settling on hers. 

She raised her glass to him as a sort of invitation, before taking a generous swallow. 

“The last time a Stark met with a Targaryen he was murdered, burned alive was it?”

“You have nothing to fear from us Lady Stark,” Rhaegar Targaryen replied calmly in a soothing tone of voice. 

“You murder your own brother but you expect me to trust you?” 

Suddenly, without being invited Daenerys Targaryen slid into the unoccupied chair across from her. At this distance, Sansa could smell the cloying scent of the perfume she wore.

“We’re here to discuss business,” Daenerys snapped.

Slightly annoyed, Sansa turned to face her, “What is your name again? Dorito?”

“Daenerys.”

“Daenerys, you look like an angry little boy. Do shut up dear, let the grown ups speak.”

“Forgive my sister, what she lacks in diplomacy she -”

“Your men seem to be confused,” Sansa began, interrupting Rhaegar. As much as she hated to admit it, the girl was right about the fact that they had come to discuss business.

“Oh?” Daenerys feigned innocence. “And what might they be confused about?”

“I’m sure you’re brother’s told them that the North belongs to my family. So it must have been a misunderstanding that some of your men were seen entering the Northern territories a few days ago.”

Daenerys stared at her for a moment before snapping to get the attention of one of Sansa’s men. It was Theon, and he gave the Targaryen heiress a cold look as he turned his head.

“Get me a scotch on the rocks,” Daenerys ordered, barely even looking at the man.

“Theon isn’t a waiter,” Sansa corrected her, raising her own drink to her lips. “If you want something, you’ll have to go to the bar yourself.”

The woman already looked annoyed, but Sansa couldn’t care less. She wasn’t supposed to feel comfortable and at ease here. This was her territory and she needed to watch her step.

Sansa’s inner frustration was interrupted by the most beautiful man in the world stepping through the door. He had dark curly hair, full lips, and deep chocolate eyes. 

“Where did you find him?” Sansa asked, their previous conversation forgotten. “He’s magnificent.”

“We were discussing business,” Daenerys snapped.

“Business that has nothing to do with my nephew,” the lizard queen stressed in disapproval. 

“I apologize for the slip up on the part of my men,” Rhaegar said, taking a sip of his drink. “I assure you they will be dealt with. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to show my respect for your family and my regret for overstepping my bounds?”

Sansa gave him a smile that people had described as icy when they thought her back was turned. “Of course, of course. But I was thinking something more...physical.”

Rhaegar coughed awkwardly, "Lady Stark, I’m flattered but..."

Sansa made a gesture and he stopped speaking, “Lord Targaryen, you may be as tall and handsome as rumored, however I assure you I have no such interest. Rather I was suggesting you hand your son over to me as a sign of good faith.”

"I'm sorry, I -," he stumbled, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean his forehead. “You ask too much!”

Sansa ignites the tip of her cigar, but doesn't bring it to her lips. She twirls it nimbly between two long, perfectly manicured fingers, watching the flame smolder and grow and devour. Ash flutters down to land on her pale hand, but it doesn't burn. She brushes it away.

“You come here unannounced on the day my brother is to be married, and say Lady Stark, if there’s anything I can do to make amends, I’ll do it. And you don't; instead you come to my house and offer empty promises and expect me to accept your apology.”

At this, she finally puts down her cigar and stares at him.

“I’ll do it, I’ll stay with you.”

Both Rhaegar and Sansa turned in surprise at the unexpected interruption.

“You can’-”

“If it’ll help avoid further bloodshed in this city, then I’ll do it!”

All of a sudden, Sansa’s heels clicked sharply against the floor as she approached the man.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Arthur and Jorah tense up reaching for their guns, however, Sansa ignored this in favor of speaking to the man before her, “What is your name?”

"Jon Snow, my Lady Stark," he said.

And she swore she heard bells; he had spoken, and Sansa had fallen in love. 

She wanted to press her hand on his burning cheek and kiss him. She wanted to make love to him on her desk and hear him groan her name.

He drove her to distraction, but she wasn’t the Head of the Stark family for nothing; therefore she didn’t miss the discreet attempt he made to pull down his sleeves… and the edge of what seemed to be a scar just poking out.

Catching his eyes, she could see a hint of fear within their depths. 

She hated the idea of him being afraid of her. She wanted to protect him from everything. She wanted to ease his mind, so she flashed him a smile. 

Slowly she reached out to him, taking his arm. She gripped the edge of his sleeve and waited but received no resistance on his part, so she carefully lifted the fabric away revealing a myriad of scars. 

Lightly she traced his raised skin before speaking softly, “Who did this to you?”

“Was it your father?” she guessed at his silence, looking up to meet his eyes.

However, he shook his head no at her inquiry; but he couldn’t hide the slight flicker of his eyes towards his aunt, Daenerys Targaryen. 

“Oh, I see,” Sansa continued in her soft voice. 

As carefully as she’d lifted it, Sansa lowered the fabric back over his sleeve and patted his arm affectionately. 

Scanning the room, her eyes caught Sandor’s by the door, and with a flick of her eyes and a nod of her head he whipped out his gun and shot Daenerys point blank.

Before anyone could react, Jorah let out a cry of anguish and reached for his gun, however, faster than anyone could blink Jaime shot and killed him.

By this point, almost every member of the room had a gun drawn and was locked in a standoff. 

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Rhaegar screamed at her. 

Sansa simply waved him away carelessly, “I’ve done you a great service, Targaryen! That woman you call sister would’ve eventually killed your son, and you wouldn’t even have noticed!”

Wide eyed, Rhaegar turned to stare at Jon in disbelief, only for him to hesitantly confirm Sansa’s suspicions. 

“I-”

Sansa turned her attention back to Rhaegar. “I see your people in my territory again and I won’t be as cordial as I was tonight. This is your only warning, Rhaegar.”

“You have done me a great service. I will take your kindness and pay it forward,” he choked out. 

“Some day, and that day may never come, I would like to call upon you to do me a service in return.”

The Targaryen family Head stood, shooting a scared look over his shoulder at Sansa before he pushed past the door with Arthur Dayne following closely behind.

* * *

After Rhaegar’s escape, Sansa instantly began issuing orders, “Clean this mess up, I won’t have blood staining my carpets. Be sure to carry the bodies through the reception, can’t have the Tyrell’s growing too comfortable in our company. And once you’ve finished, I’d like for you to leave us.”

Without a moment's hesitation her orders were carried out, until only her and Jon remained. 

“Why did you do it?” Jon asked her in a quiet tone.

“Do what, exactly?”

“Kill her, kill Daenerys?”

“My darling, we may be evolved but deep down we are all still animals,” she stated simply. 

A thoughtful silence issued after her statement, however Sansa broke it soon enough, “Where are you from?” 

“Dorne.” 

“Dorne? What part?” 

“Look, it doesn't really matter, alright?” Jon replied irritably. 

“I'm just trying to be friendly, you know.” 

“Oh god, I have enough friends, I don't need another one... especially one who’s a criminal.” 

At that point Sansa froze, “Criminal? Hold it. You got the wrong girl. I’m not a criminal. You're thinking of someone else, maybe.” 

“Aren't you part of the King’s Landing crime wave?” 

“What you talking crazy for? I'm a businesswoman here, okay? So take it easy. Don't talk crazy.” 

“Sorry. I didn't know you were so sensitive about your job status,” Jon flashed a small smile in amusement at her offense. 

“What is your problem, sweetling? Eh? You got a problem? Because you're good-looking. You got a beautiful body, beautiful eyes... a beautiful face, all these girls in love with you. Only you got a look in your eye... like you haven't been fucked in a year!” she burst out.

“Hey, Stark. Who, why, when and how I fuck is none of your business, okay?” 

“Now you're talking to me, sweetling. That I like! Keep it coming, sweetling.” 

“Don't call me ‘sweetling’! I'm not your sweetling,” he huffed out in annoyance. 

Sansa couldn’t help but smirk in his direction, “Not yet, but you gotta give me some time.” 

“Even if I were blind, desperate... starved and begging for it on a desert island... you'd be the last thing I'd ever fuck,” he stated sharply. 

* * *

Several hours after Jon had left and was shown to his rooms, Sansa pulled a case out of her desk, along with her prized torch lighter. 

She tossed her Consigliere, Brienne a cigar and pulled one out for herself.

Sansa lit hers and took a drag, “The Targaryen boy…” 

“Yeah?” Brienne nodded in acknowledgement, while Sansa leaned over and lit her cigar. Brienne attempted to follow her example, but sputtered on the cigar and started coughing. Sansa laughed as she coughed and hacked.

“He likes me,” Sansa smirked and put the cigar between her lips.

Brienne shot her a look, but remained silent. 

* * *

**Present**

****

Smiling fondly, Jon brought his hand down to push a strand of hair away but kept his palm resting on Sansa's smooth cheek.

“I love you. I loved you the first time I laid eyes on you. I wanted you to marry me. I wanted you to be the father of my children,” she whispered to him softly. 

He could see into the deepest parts of her, the things she disliked about herself, even hated - and yet he cherished her anyway. When he gazed at her in that soft, understanding way, she felt tears smart in her eyes. To be loved so truly - for herself alone - was something she'd almost despaired of ever finding. But found it she had, and it was a great, great blessing.

He argued with her, challenged her, supported her. Her Jon made her feel like she wanted to be a better person, even going back to the day she'd first met him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT (IN DEPTH EXPLANATION): 
> 
> First things first, that FLUFF. I'm the type of person that LOVES to make contact with people, I FUCKING LOVE hugs; so like my fic characters reflect that and are almost always touching in some capacity.
> 
> ALSO, so to explain to you just how cute this moment is I gotta explain that Jon is literally THE ONLY person that sees this side of Sansa, she plays the Ice Queen for everyone but him. 
> 
> MISDIRECT HA! Did everyone really think I wouldn't already have them married??????? Speaking of being married, Sansa fiddling with Jon's wedding ring is the cutest shit I've ever written, I just wish I was better at describing it LOL. 
> 
> Jon's scars match up with his canon stab wounds, HOWEVER for the sake of my fic he also has tiny scars littered all across his body. 
> 
> IDK if anyone noticed but I tried to add a lot more Theon. I FUCKING LOVE that man, but I'm not very good at writing the Theon we deserve, I only know how to write asshole Theon from the first couple seasons; so like he's mentioned more and considered a valuable member of Sansa's mafia in order to highlight his importance in a different manner. 
> 
> To answer your question, yes Sansa hides behind her icy mask with her family. THIS is what I was talking about, tbh Ned, Robb, and Catelyn really pissed me off in canon about how they treated Sansa. Ned OBVIOUSLY preferred Arya and never took the time to understand Sansa, Robb literally said 'uh fuck her' when she was a hostage in King's Landing (I mean I'll give some leeway bc you can't sacrifice a war for ONE person, but at the same time I'm justified bc Robb fucked it all up in the end anyway), and then Catelyn cared about Sansa and wanted to get her back BUT according to the books Bran was actually her favorite Stark. 
> 
> The 'open the casket' part was inspired by Cersei wanting to see Tommen's body after he committed suicide. 
> 
> The WHOLE converstaion about drugs was inspired by 'The Godfather' 
> 
> In canon Ned and Robb fucked up so like that's also the story here, and that's why Sansa's Head of the family.
> 
> I'm a Robb/Margaery shipper, what can I say ;D
> 
> ALRIGHTY so I LOVE Margaery and the Tyrell's, and I love the Sansa/Margaery friendship, BUT tbh in canon I feel like they were just using her. I mean yea they were nice but they were mostly manipulating her for info and the North. 
> 
> Yes the Sansa/Margaery confrontation was inspired by the one between Cersei and Margaery LMFAOOOOOO
> 
> I'm a HUGE Marvel nerd, so the 'keep both eyes open' line between Sansa & Marge is from Captain America: The Winter Soldier LOL 
> 
> 'Don't ever take sides against the family' is also 'The Godfather' 
> 
> Okay so Jon's not involved with the business but he was at the meeting... TBH with everyone I don't really have a solid explanation for that; that's more in the line of a plot hole LOL; But we'll just say that Rhaegar fears for his safety and someone using Jon against him so he keeps him close. 
> 
> The BIGGEST elephant in the room, Dorito. Alright so if ya know me you know I fucking hate this bitch so I'll look for any excuse to kill her BUT this time it was for plot purposes also. So I used Dorito as a plot device to smooth the Jonsa relationship, bc in a way Sansa kinda bought Jon which is BAD; so her killing his abuser kinda softens that a bit... maybe. That was worded horribly but I hope you catch my drift. 
> 
> Alright this is the biggest plot hole for me, why didn't Arthur Dayne massacre the whole fucking room? WELL IDK, I mean we'll just say it's bc he's there to protect Rhaegar SO he won't kill anyone unless they're an immediate threat or Rhaegar tells him too. 
> 
> The whole exchange between Sansa and Jon after discussing Dorito's death and then the one between Sansa and Brienne was from my fav mob movie 'Scarface', FUCK I LOVE that movie. The Jonsa discussion was really used to indicate that Jonsa didn't IMMEDIATELY happen when Jon remained with Sansa, rather it's something they built together over time. Also I used Brienne bc I was like shit she wasn't in this enough. 
> 
> ALRIGHTY EVERYONE THANK YOU AGAIN FOR READING MY GARBAGE, YOU ALL HAVE A GREAT DAY/NIGHT! LOVE YOU DARLINGS! 
> 
> I ALMOST FORGOT! This will probably be the last time you all see me during the summer, next month I leave for Germany (gotta go visit one of the homelands lol) and between now and then I have some work I need to finish, so no time for fic writing. So if I don't see you all again, I hope everyone has a kick ass rest of their summer! 😀❤
> 
> Shameless plug, follow me on Tumblr @Ludholtzjj  
> \- Jenn out


End file.
